


Ghost Of You

by Kikoiku



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cold Weather, Dancing, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Heavy Drinking, I suck at tagging, I'm Bad At Summaries, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mentioned Tina Chen, Music, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Slow Dancing, Soft Gavin Reed, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, We Call RK900 Richard In This Realm, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23583241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikoiku/pseuds/Kikoiku
Summary: Gavin and Richard had been dating for a while, after finally tearing down the walls of Gavins bigotry. But Gavin has issues that drive them apart again and something has to change or Richard's gonna leave him for good.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Ghost Of You

**Author's Note:**

> „So I drown it out like I always do, dancing through our house with the ghost of you. And I chase it down, with a shot of truth, that my feet don't dance like they did with you.“

Gavin sat in his armchair in front of the window and looked out into the snowstorm. He had thrown his legs over the armrest and put his head against the back. The bottle in his hand felt heavier than usual, although he had almost emptied it. The Scotch in it had wrapped his brain in a cosy veil of mist that made his thoughts grow dull.  
  
It was almost Christmas and it had hardly stopped snowing a few days ago. The street lamps wrapped the paths in warm orange light, with snowflakes dancing to an inaudible melody - it could almost be beautiful.  
  
Something in him was desperate to call Tina, to stop at her place, but it was three o'clock in the morning and she had already had an angelic patience with him last week anyway, which he did not deserve. A week had passed since he had argued with Richard - a week in which he hadn't shown up for work and hadn't answered Gavin's messages. A week in which he had felt even more sorry for himself every evening than he already had.  
  
He lifted the bottle to his lip and took another deep sip before putting it on the coffee table beside him.  
  
They had argued about some little thing, maybe the case they just couldn't solve - at least that's what Gavin thought. He had been too drunk, too busy with himself, again.  
Maybe that's what they'd been arguing about, too.  
  
He knew Richard was disgusted to see him like that. Nearly too drunk to stand, words rang out in the clairaudient flat. When he drank, his voice became too loud, his anger too overwhelming - how he treated Richard then was not fair to him. And he cursed himself again every time he woke up with a hangover in the morning and found Richard in the living room because he couldn't bear to see Gavin like that.  
  
Gavin couldn't blame him for leaving.  
  
Music was playing from the apartment above him. He looked up at the ceiling, then at the watch on his wrist and back to the ceiling before wondering why his neighbour was up so late. The young woman had only moved in a few weeks ago. Gavin had helped her carry the heavy cello upstairs and she had baked him muffins as a thank you. She was friendly, always greeting, sometimes even stopping for a little chat. He had often heard her practising, and sometimes, when Richard was around, he had held out his hand and asked him to dance. Slow dances, sometimes polka, sometimes flamenco - whatever she was playing.  
  
She played a quiet melody, sad and melancholic and bitterly tender, very appropriate for three in the morning. A tear rolled down Gavin's cheek, which he wiped away in anger and frustration. He placed the bottle on the coffee table next to him before standing up carefully so as not to fall over the edge of the carpet.  
  
Eyes closed, he imagined Richard putting his hand in his, saw his face before him, the amused smile, the admiring look. He placed his hand where Richard's hip would be, imagined them interlocking their fingers. Gavin began to dance a slow waltz to the rhythm of the seemingly endless music.  
She played mesmerising, as Richard had called it a while back.  
He was right.  
  
A smile formed on Gavin's lips, another tear rolled down his cheek, which he hardly noticed. He was lost in his memory and never wanted to leave it again.  
He cringed as the doorbell rang.  
  
Gavin stumbled over his own two feet and could barely avoid hitting the ground face first. He was mercilessly punched back into reality, which seemed even more bleak than before, and looked at the clock: 3:24am. He pulled his eyebrows together - who would walk through this weather at this time of day to ring his doorbell?  
  
He sighed deeply, tried to adopt a halfway confident attitude and staggered towards the front door. When he opened it, he sucked the air in sharply, a surprised expression on his face.  
Before him stood Richard, impossibly beautiful in the dim light, snowflakes melting in his hair.  
How much had he drunk again?  
They stood facing each other in silence for a few moments until Richard cleared his throat audibly and folded his hands behind his back. "I think we should talk," he finally said muffled and waited to be let in.  
Gavin blinked a few times, his thoughts weren't the fastest at the moment, but eventually he just stepped aside silently and Richard stepped over the threshold.  
  
Gavin carefully walked ahead of him into the living room, preferably without staggering from side to side. The music had stopped playing, but the snowfall had become a bit thicker. He leaned against the windowsill to have a firm stand, which he probably wouldn't have needed - the surprise at Richard's appearance had sobered him up quite a bit.  
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked over at Richard, who was standing a bit out of place in the room, as if he didn't really know where to put himself.  
  
"Well, you wanted to talk," Gavin finally asked, careful not to trip over his own words.  
  
Richard let his eyes wander for a moment - it wasn't as messy as he expected after a week, but his gaze remained fixed on the whisky bottle that was still in its place on the table.  
"You've been drinking again?" he finally asked and could not hide the obvious anger in his voice.  
  
Gavin did not answer.  
  
Sighing, Richard ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in the process and Gavin couldn't take his eyes off him. The LED on Richard's temple lit up red briefly before turning yellow and remaining in that state. "Damn it, Gavin, I- we- we can't go on like this," he said, more beat up than annoyed.  
  
"I know," Gavin replied sheepishly, barely audible.  
  
"I mean it, Gavin. Every time I'm here, I have to wonder how much you've drunk this time, and every time your words make me wonder if you even want me here. I know I love you, but I can't do this if I have to ask myself over and over again if you do, too.”  
  
After that it was quiet for a long time. Richard looked at Gavin, waiting, while Gavin looked down at his feet and suddenly found the carpet terribly interesting. He knew Richard was right - so why was it so hard for him to admit it? He had wasted too much time trying to keep his luck away from him and now that he finally had it, he was about to screw it up again.  
  
He pushed himself off the window sill, grabbed the bottle from the table as he walked by, and then grabbed Richard's wrist. Without saying a word, he went into the kitchen, left Richard standing at the door and poured the rest of the whisky down the drain with gusto. Then he opened the fridge, took out the six-pack of beer and sent it right after.  
"Okay, that's it, no more alcohol. Think of it as an early New Year's resolution," he said with a sigh, leaning against the counter by the sink. Richard had raised both eyebrows in surprise and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
"And that was all?" he asked with a sceptical undertone in his voice.  
Gavin hummed in thought before admitting, "I think I know there's a bottle of wine in the back corner of my closet."  
Before he could go and get them, Richard had already disappeared around the corner. Gavin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't quite know whether to feel liberated or frightened - he didn't know who he was without the rush, without the constant level - but for now he decided to make room for the good feeling. If it made Richard want to stay, it was worth it.  
  
"Oh, that's an expensive one," said Richard, who suddenly stood right in front of him. Gavin opened his eyes and looked up at him. "This would make a good present for Tina next week."  
"So you still want to go together?" Gavin asked quietly.  
"Well, it's the least I could do after whining in her ears for a week," replied Richard and placed the bottle next to Gavin on the counter before placing his arms to Gavin's sides.  
"Ah, so you went to her, too?"  
"Well, Connor hasn't been much of a help."  
They both laughed briefly, soft and deep, then Richard rested his forehead against Gavin's.  
"Come on, let's go to bed," he whispered and took Gavin's hand in his.  
Gavin didn't have to be asked twice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Thank you for reading my first attempt at a fic!  
> Comments are highly appreciated, I'll take  
> any advice you give me.
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
